Parque del Este (Caracas, Venezuela)

It was almost nine in the morning when we arrived at Parque del Este, the park where we were going to play our final match. The stands, filled with the parents and friends of the players, provided a colorful contrast to the gray and cloudy morning. I got out of the car with my heart beating a drum solo in my chest and smiled at some of my teachers, who were waiting to get a spot in the stands that were put by the sponsors of the league.

My futsal team was composed by Javier, one of my best friends (he was 14, but he looked 17.) He was more popular than me, he was all a ladies' man and he was always hanging around with the guys of the fifth year. He was actually too roguish considering how young he was, but he was always there when we needed him; 'Fat' Jorge was our goalkeeper. He was the player with the lowest goal ratio in the league; and Ronald, the extroverted guy, was also one of my best friends. He was blond and had blue eyes. He liked playing and gambling during the breaks. He always invited us to play the best video games! Plus... he was Suhail's bother, and she was the most beautiful piece of ass in the whole universe!

My father blew the whistle and asked us to gather together near the bench, where my brother was sitting. In that moment I felt a hand in my shoulder and then I saw her just in front of me, standing with her beautiful smile: the piece of ass of my dreams. Her skin was brown, her eyes had a caramel color and her hair was dark brown. She looked as if she was from the fifth year but she was actually in second year, a year younger than me. She had a stutter, mostly when she was nervous or mad, but I didn't care; I liked her a lot, especially her legs. Started, I noticed that dog, the Dalmatian from home, sitting right behind her, about 10 meters away from the platform. It seemed that it was alone but it was hard to tell. Was it the same dog that I saw near my house? Because even though it was a miracle my dad's truck even started, it was impossible for a dog to get here before us, especially when we were going at seventy kilometer per hour and now we were twenty kilometers away. It was weird, but it was almost like that dog was actually seeking me, following me and, even more disturbing, looking only at me.

"W-w-what are you looking a-a-at Aníbal?"

I heard my father's voice calling me over. I grabbed her hands and before I left, I told her:

"You look beautiful!

"Th...thank you!" she said as she blushed, "G-g-good luck!"

When I was passing near the bench, I saw my brother. He was the only supporting player and he was smiling because he wasn't going to play. I went with the other guys and they didn't miss a chance to make fun of me:

"Love is beautiful, isn't it? Especially if-if-if s-s-stutters" said Javier, teasing me like the rest of the team.

"Shut your trap, you double idiot! Let me listen to the coach."

My father blew the whistle again and a gentle rain started. All of us got wet, well, not all of us. Some people ran to the stands, which thank God had a temporary roof.

"Guys, today is the day!" began my dad, "but now I have good and bad news for you... The good news is that Los Felinos are not used to play under the rain."

Before he could continue, Javier interrupted him. "And the bad news?"

A resounding clap of thunder struck and illuminated the gray morning for an instant. The gentle rain turned into a storm.

"Well, the bad news is that Jorge, our best goalkeeper, is sick." "But what happened?" one of the team members asked.

"Yesterday I talked to him and he was alright," said another member.

"Stomach problems" answered my father flatly.

"That piece of shit was stuffing his face again! If I see him...! I will kick his ass when I see him! If we lose this cup, it will be his fault! That piece of shit!" Javier yelled, striking his palm with a fist.

"Who's going to be the goalkeeper now, viejo? Nobody is as good as Fat Jorge."

My father closed the folder, which was destroyed because of the rain, and stared at Azael. All of us were afraid and knew that the worst part was about to come. My dad went to my brother and put a hand in his shoulder:

"Azael, you will be our goalkeeper."

"Me?" squeaked Azael.

"What!? Are you out of your mind?" exclaimed Javier.

"Do you have a better idea?" asked my father.

"We could play without a goalkeeper! At least we would have the three goalposts and they would be better than Azael!" cried out Javier.

"Why don't you play that position then, Javier?"

I could practically hear Javier's teeth grinding. Glaring at my dad, he whirled around and took the ball from one of the members of our team, who stood petrified. Javier fixed his stare in the football as he started to dribble.

Ronald came to my side and put a hand on my shoulder. "Dude! We're doomed! We'll be the laughing stock of the league!"

"I know! I know!" I answered, looking down.

My brother was petrified, watching with terror as Los Felinos practiced their kicks, aiming straight to their goalkeeper, who doubled the size of my brother.

I tried to encourage my brother. "Hey, Azael! This is your chance, bro! We're counting on you, ok? You can make it!"

Azael's eyes were glistened as he gazed at the platform. "I think Javier is right, Los Felinos are going to kick my ass, and the worst thing is that she came and she'll see that. I'll disappoint her."

I turned to look at the platform, too, but it was empty.

"She's looking at us and she's going to see how we lose because of me." This time, the tears started to fall down.

"Bro, don't worry! It's no big deal if you feel nervous before an important match, but calm down, okay? Now, who are you talking about? A girlfriend? Were you keeping it a secret, huh?"

He wiped his tears away and stared at me calmly. "Can't you see her? She's right there, sitting on the stands."

"Who? I don��t see anybody, Azael!"

"Sitting right next to the fat man with the red shirt!" he said, pointing.

I examined the stands, going every person sitting there, but shiver ran through my body. Next to the red-shirted man, there was only empty space. I swallowed, thinking that my brother was going crazy. I gave him a compassionate look and told him softly, "Azael! You're losing your nerve! There's no one there, dude!"

"Look! She's greeting us!" he insisted.

"Who the fuck are you looking at!? I don't see anyone!"

"Don't worry. She says that everything will be fine and that we must have faith in God, because what's coming next won't be easy at all."

"Dude! Who the hell are you looking at!?

"At mom, Aníbal, she's there with her golden dress."

But she died years ago, I thought, unable to say anything aloud because of the sudden lump logged in my throat.

The whistle of the referee interrupted our conversation to call the respective captains of the teams to start the match. Still reeling over what Azael had told me, I got a pitch that hit me in the legs. It was Javier calling me to the midfield. As I jogged over, I saw my brother putting on the gloves and heading to the net. He looked happy and confident but his gaze was still fixed on the stands, looking at the same empty seat.

Fuck! My brother had lost his marbles.